


don't let me go

by sugandt



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 17:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20430056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugandt/pseuds/sugandt
Summary: three times dimitri asks claude if he’s cold.





	don't let me go

**Author's Note:**

> bro i am just. i am just in love with these two. 
> 
> written for my gf :)

  1. traveling. 

traveling to the holy kingdom, they’ve got to head through a thicket of sorts, claude choosing to lead his wyvern on foot. dimitri leads, both hands clutching the reins on his horse. the sun rose a few hours ago, now at the highest point in the sky, but the rays only dapple through the treetops. dimitri reaches behind his head with one hand, pulls the twine holding his hair up loose, and his golden locks fall around his shoulders, curling ever so slightly. he pockets the twine while stepping over a particularly large fallen branch.  _ how did it get there?  _ he absentmindedly wonders to himself, he doesn’t recall there being a village nearby, but it’s been years since he’s gone home, let alone taken this route. he looks back at claude.

“be careful, claude, there is a…” dimitri trails off. claude no longer holds onto his wyvern’s reins, arms wrapped around himself, hands running up and down his own arms. curious. he jolts when dimitri says his name, head snapping up and looking  _ guilty _ , of all things. like he’s been caught red-handed, caught doing something he’s not supposed to. his chin involuntarily moves, and his jaw clenches a moment after. 

“are you,” dimitri’s head tilts, and he stops in his tracks, “are you cold?” 

it’s hot in almyra. burning hot. like, dimitri would get a sunburn after being outside for ten minutes, and it would peel for days. claude’s not used to this cold, not used to traveling this far north. dimitri seems so unaffected by it, and it’s infuriating and unfair and adorable, because dimitri’s cheeks are only slightly pink, rosy, and so is the tip of his nose.

“bit chilly,” claude says, forcing a grin, “i’ve gotta say, that cape of yours looks pretty warm, though.”

“would you like it?” dimitri asks, already unraveling it from his shoulders. without waiting from a response from claude, he makes his way to stand in front of him.

“perhaps,” says claude into dimitri’s neck, as he wraps the fur cape around him, making sure to fasten the front around claude’s chin. the fur tickles his neck, his cheeks, and it’s entirely too big for him, but it’s stupidly warm, soft hide on the inside, and covered in dimitri’s scent. claude loves it.

“thanks, highness,” claude says, catching one of dimitri’s hands in his own, murmuring something about dimitri having another way that he can beat the cold.

dimitri’s not stupid. he would have fallen for it, some time ago. but it still embarrasses him, how forward claude is. claude’s free hand snakes around his waist, around and up his front, into his long hair, the nape of his neck, and then claude’s kissing him, not chaste but not needy, like he wants to stay in this moment for a while longer. he cards his hand, leather-gloved and practised, through dimitri’s long, blonde hair. it reaches past his shoulders, and although he often wears it tied back, claude thinks it looks even more beautiful when its down. 

“my pleasure.”

  1. teatime. 

the officer’s academy. newly eighteen. the monastery had been kind enough to give their students and employees a handful of days off for winter’s break. some went home to visit their families, seeing that they lived close enough to do so, but most stayed at the academy grounds, choosing to spend time with their friends and classmates. which is, in part, how dimitri finds himself inviting claude over for tea. unfortunate that he couldn’t host it outside, but the snowfall is heavy, and the wind bites when it whips, and even professor byleth decided to host her tea parties in her own quarters. 

“which blend is your favourite?” dimitri questions, opening up a small, blue box, containing a handful of different tea blends, each bag of tea measured to make the perfect amount for two, “i am partial to chamomile-- dedue recommended it to calm my nerves, and it does  _ wonders _ .” 

and, well, dimitri’s just a  _ bit _ nervous. it’s not every day he has a handsome man in his room, and he rarely hosts tea parties himself. is he talking too much? is claude alright with it? oh, dimitri worries, but forces down the urge to wring his wrists and fidget in his seat.

“let’s try it, then,” claude says. grins up at dimitri, nothing hidden behind it. dimitri’s chest aches at how his heart skips a beat. the thing about claude is that he’s  _ easy _ . he doesn’t treat dimitri like he’s a prince, and when he does, it’s in jest, teasingly. he doesn’t let his status affect his relationships, doesn’t adhere to the power imbalance the same way dimitri is supposed to. he treats him like a friend, an equal. 

dimitri lifts the lid off the teapot, stirs the chamomile blend in, and covers it again, then rests his hands on his thighs. there’s a pressure at his ankle, that moves up his calf, then back down, too intentional for it to be a mistake of sitting too close to one another. dimitri’s fingers curl into his palms, white-knuckled.

“is it cold in here?” asks dimitri, knowing he accidentally left the window open during the afternoon, having shut it just before claude’s arrival, “you’re alright?”

“hot,” claude says, and dimitri’s not quite sure, but he thinks claude winks at him, “but thanks for the concern. you mind if i take my jacket off?” 

he doesn’t wait for an answer, not that dimitri is one to deny him the request. so dimitri is forced to watch as claude undresses right in front of him. he’s all skin, left in only a butter yellow shirt, silk, half unbuttoned (half buttoned up? dimitri wonders). he’s filled out, over the past few months, dimitri notes, eyes downcast to stare at his front, so shameless as he revels in claude’s honey golden skin that practically glows in the candlelight, his arms and collarbones and neck on display for dimitri to-- 

“highness,” claude says, somewhat smug as he reaches for the teapot, “my eyes are up here.” 

“goddess,” dimitri nearly  _ hisses _ , averting his gaze, “my apologies, claude. my behaviour is unacceptable.” 

“no sweat,” claude pours the tea into dimitri’s waiting cup, “you’ll just have to make it up to me sometime.”

  1. cathedral 

claude rarely visits the cathedral, especially after five years pass. dimitri parols it like a fucking  _ animal _ , feral, with his hackles raised and teeth bared and dead eye hidden behind a patch. truth be told, claude thinks it looks kind of cool, like he’s a pirate, but dimitri won’t let him get close enough to say anything about it. part of him wants to know exactly what it is that happened, if dimitri would ever tell him. his curiosity has always been rather insatiable. 

he finds himself climbing over the rubble of the cathedral, trying to be as quiet as possible, to not wake the beast that slumbers within. but dimitri’s senses have heightened over the years, and he instinctively knows when someone is nearby. he didn’t spend all that time in a self-imposed purgatory for nothing. 

“get out of here,” dimitri growls, and claude’s heart plummets into his stomach for a moment. as much as he’s changed, he’s still dimitri, he’s still his friend from long ago, even if their old selves are dead, ruined and torn apart and ravaged by war. they still have the memories, though, buried deep down. dimitri pants, hog-like, glass-blue eye wide. very deep down. 

“that’s no way to treat an old friend, dimi,” claude says, pausing in his tracks. dimitri sneers at the nickname, moves as if he’s a predator and claude is his prey, stalking, one foot moving expertly behind the other. his training paid off, it would seem.

“why did you come?” dimitri’s fingers twitch, and claude can just imagine how he would tear him to shreds, hands around his neck and scratching down his chest, welts and bright red lines in their wake. honestly? kinda hot. not the time, claude. 

“can’t sleep,” claude answers. it explains why he’s not in his typical armour, but he’s not sure if dimitri even realizes it, “i wanted to see you.” 

the sincerity in his voice surprises even claude. dimitri’s face drops for a second, so quick claude barely has time to take it in. he’s still in there, somewhere, hidden in that massive body of his, stuck so deep in his mind, behind all of the walls he has built up. claude thinks he could break down the walls, but it would take time, understanding, patience. something that war does not often allow them the luxury of. dimitri’s face grows darker, and he lowers, like he’s about to pounce. 

a shiver runs down claude’s spine, but he stands his ground. 

“are you cold?” dimitri says, so quiet that claude strains to hear, “or are you afraid of me?” 

“neither,” claude says, half lying-- it’s always cold in the cathedral, and dimitri is an animal in need of taming, “a bit of both.”

“good,” dimitri sneers, “you should leave.” 

“i’d come back,” claude says, “you know i can’t leave you again.” 


End file.
